THE STORY-TELLER.

Evening Post, Volume LXX, Issue 37, 12 August 1905, Page 10

THE STORY-TELLER.

Idle Thoughts, r' . • By Jerome K. Jerome ' , (Author of "Three Men in a Boat," "Paul Kelver," etc). (All rights reserved. Copyright in the j . United States of America.) vS . • THE KINGDOM OF THE DEAD. ' > Ghosts are in the air. It is difficult at this moment • .to avoid talking of ghosts. The first question you are asked on being introduced this season is : , "Do • you believe in ghosts?" I would he so ' glad to believe in ghosts. This* world is muoh too small for me. Up to a century or two ago the intellectual young man found it sufficient for his purposes. It still contained the unknown— the pos- _• sible — •within its boundaries. New continents were still to be discovered : we dreamt of giants, Liliputians, desertfenced "Utopias. We set our sail, and Wonderland lay ever just beyond our horizon. To-day the world is small, the ■, light railway runs through the desert, the coasting steamer calls at the islands of the Blessed, the lnst mystery has been unveiled!, the fairies are dead, the talking birds are silent. • Our baffled curiosity turns for relief outwards. We call upon the dead to rescue us from our monotony. The first authentic ghost will be welcomed as the saviour of humanity. But he must be a living ghost — >i ghost ■we can respect, a ghost we can listen to. The poor spiritless addle-headed ghost that has hitterto haunted onr blue chambers is of no use to us. I remember j a thoughtful man once remarking during argument that if he believed in ghosts — the silly, childish spooks about which we had been telling anecdotes — death would possess for >»im an added fear: the idea that his next dwelling-place would -be among such a pack of dismal idiots, would sadden his departing hours. What ■was he to talk to them about? Apparently their, only interest lay in recalling their earthly troubles. The ghost of the lady unhappily married who had been poisoned, or had her throat cut, . -who every night for the last five hundred . years had visited the chamber where it • happened for no other purpose than to . scream about it! what a tiresome person she -would be to meet 5 All her conversation during the long days would be around her earthly wrongs. The other • ghosts, in all probability, would have heard about that husband of hers, what • he said-, and what he did, till they were ski of the subject. A newcomer would ' he seized upon with avidity. . > A'lady of repute writes to a magazine " that she once occupied for a season a wainscotted room in an old manor house. • On several occasions she awoke in the ' night: each time J to witness tie same , ghostly pea-fprmancfe. Four I ."gentlemen sat round a? table playing^ cards.^ Suddenly one of- them sprang to his feet ana plunged a' dagger into the back of bis partner. The- lady does notsay so: one , presumes it was ,his partner. I have» ■ myself, when playing bridge, seen an • expression on my -partner* face* that said 1 quite plainly: -'L would like-tp murder yon." I have not the memory for bridge. I forget who it was that, the last trick hut seven, played the 'two .ot.dubsv X thought it was he, my partner; I thought it meant that I was to take an. -early, opportunity of forcing trumps. I don't know why I thought so, I try to explain why I thought so.- It sounds a "fcilly argument even to myself; I feel I have not got it quite right. Added to which it was not my partner who played the two of clubs, it was Dummy. If I had only remembered this, and had concluded from 'it — as I ought to have done — that my partner 'had the ace of diamonds — as otherwise why did he pass my - knave? — we might have caved $he odd trick. I have not the head for bridge. • Ifc is only an ordinary 'head — mine. I have no business to play bridge.. Bnt to return to our ghosts. These four gentlemen must now and again, during their earthly existence, have sat down, to a, merry game of cards. There must have been evenings when nobody was stabbed. Why ohoose an unpleasant' occasion to harp exclusively upon it? Why do ghosts never give a ■ cheerful .show?- The lady who was poisoned! there 1 must have been other evenings in her life. Why does she not show us ' "The first meeting:" when he gave her - the violets and said they were like her eyes? He wasn'v; always poisoning her. There must have been a period before he ever thought of poisoning her. Cannot these ghosts do something occasionally in what is termed "the lighter vein?" If they haunt a forest glade, it is to perform a dnel to the death, or an assassination. Why 'cannot they, for a 1 change, give us an old-time picnic, , or "The hawking party," which, in Elizabethan costume, should make » pretty picture. Ghwrtland woald appear to be obsessed by the 'spirit of the Scandinavian drama: murders, suicides, ruined fortunes, and broken hearts are the only material made • use of. ' Why is not a dead humorist allowed now and then to write the sketch? There must be plenty of dead comic lovers,; why are they neve? allowed to give a. show? A cheerful person, contemplates death, with alarm. What is he to do in this land of ghosfo? there is no place for him. Imagine the cominonpla.ee liver of a humdrum existence being received into ghostland. He enters nervous, shy, feeling again the new boy at school." The old ghosts gather round him. "How do you come here — murdered?" "No, at least, 1 don't' think so." "Suicide?" "No — can't remember the name of it now. Began with a chill on the liver, I think." The ghosts are disappointed. But a happy suggestion is made. Perhaps he was the murderer; that would be even better. Let him think carefully ; can he recollect ever haying committed a murder? He racks his brains in vain, not a single murder comes to his recollection. He never forged a will. Doesn't even know where anything'is hid. Of what use will he be in ghostland? One pictures him passing the centuries among a moody crowd of uninteresting mediocrities, 1 brooding perpetually over their wasted lives. Only the ghosts of ladies and gentlemen mixed up in crime have any "show" in ghostland. I feel an equal dissatisfaction with the spirits who are supposed to return to us and communicate with us through the medium of three-legged tables. Ido not deny the possibility that spirits exist. I am even willing to allow them their three - legged tables. It must be confessed it is a clumsy method. One cannot help regretting that during all the ages they have not evolved a more dignified system. One feels that the three-legged table must hamper them. One can imagine an impatient spirit getting tired of spelling out a lengthy story on a three-legged table. But, as I have •aid, I am -willing to assume that, for some spiritual reason unfathomable to my mere human intelligence, that threelegged table is essential. I am willing also to accept the human medium. She is. generally aD unprepossessing lady running oomowkat to bulk. If a gentleman, he 00. often has -dirty fingex-sajls and

smells of stale beer. I think myself it would be so much simpler if the Spirit would talk to me direct ; we could get on quicker. But there is that about the medium, I am told, which appeals to a Spirit. Well, it is- his affair, not mine, and I waive ,the argument. My real stumbling-block ia the Spirit himself— the sort of conversation that, ■when he, does talk, he indulges in. I cannot help feeling that his conversation is not worth the paraphernalia. I can talk better than that myself. . . ' - " The late Professor Huxley, wh» took some trouble over' this -matter, attended some half-dozen seances, and then determined to attend no more. "I haY©," he said, "for my sins to submit occasionally to the society of live bores. I refuse to go out of my way to spend an evening in the dark with dead bores." The spiritualists themselves admit that their' table-rapping spooks are precious dull dogs ; it would ba difficult, in face of the communications recorded, for them to deny it. They explain to us that they have not yet achieved communication with the higher spiritualistic Intelligences. The more intelligent Spirits— for some reason that the spiritualists themselves are unable to explain— do not want to talk to them, appear to have something "else to do. At present— so I am' told, and can believe— it is only the spirits of lower intelligence that care to turn np on these evenings. The spiritualists argue that, by continuing, the higherclass Spirits will later on, be induced to "come in." I fail to follow the argument. It seems to me that we are frightening them away. Anyhow, myself I shall wait awhile. When the Spirit comes along that can talk sense, that can tell me something that I don't know, .1 shall be glad to meet him. The class of Spirit that Sve are getting just at present does not appeal to me. The thought of him— the reflection that I shall die, and spend the rest of eternity in his company — does not comfort me. v A lady of my acquaintance tells me it is marvellous how much these Spirits seem to know. On 1 her vbry first visit, the Spirit, through the voice of the medium — an elderly gentleman residing obscurely in Glerkenwell — informed her without a. moment's hesitation, that she possessed a relative with the Christian name of George. (I am not making this up, it is real}. This gave her at first the idea that spiritualism was a fraud. She had no relative named George, at least, a> she thought. But a morning or two later her husband received a letter from Australia. "By Jove!?' he exclaimed, as he glanced at the last page, "I had foj-gotten all about the poor old beggar." "Whom is it f rom t" she asked. "Oh, nobody you know — haven't seen him myself for twenty years' — a ' third or fourth cousin of mme — George^ — " She never heard the surname, she waa too excited. The Spirit had been right from the beginning; she had a relative named George. Her faith is spiritualism is now as a rock. There are thousands of folk who believe in Old Moore's Almanac. My difficulty would be not to believe in the old gentleman. I see that for the month of January laet he foretold; us that the Government woald meet with determined and persistent opposition . from the Radical party. He warned us- that there would be much sickness about, and that Rheumatism would discover its old victims. How does he know these things? Is it that the stars really do communicate with him, or does he "feel it in his bones*" as the saying is up North? During February he mentioned that the weather would be unsettled. He concluded : "The word Taxation will have a terrible significance -for 1 both Government and people this month." Really, it is quite uncanny. In March t "Theatres -will do badly during the month." There seems to be no keeping anything from Old Moore. In April "much dissatisfaction will be expressed among Post Office employees." That sounds probable on the face of it. In any event I will answer for our local postmen. In May, "a wealthy magnate is going to die." In June there is going to be a fire. In July, "Old Moore has reason to fear there will be trouble." Ido hope he may be -arrong, and yet somehow I feel a conviction that he TvonTt be. Anyhow, one is glad that it has been put off till July. In August, "one in high authority will be in danger of demise." In September lr zeal" on the part of persons mentioned "will outstrip discretion." . Portugal also- will have its share of trouble. lam glid Portugal is going to have trouble. It sounds unkind, but I feel it will console me. Besides, she does not appear to have had any up to now. In October Old Moore is afraid again. He cannot avoid a haunting suspicion that "Certain people Trill be victimised by -extensive fraudulent proceedings." In November "the public Press will have its columns full' of important news." The weather will be "adverse," and "a. death will occur in high circles." This makes the second ia one year. lam glad Ido not belong to- thehigher circles. In December Old Moore again foresees trouble, just when I was hoping it waa alLover. "Frauds will cometo light, and death wnl find its victims." And all this information is given )o us for a penny. . ■> The palmist examines our hand. /'Yon will go a journey," Ke tells us. 'It is marvellous ! How could he have known that only the | night before we had been discussing the advisability of taking the children to Margate for the holidays? ''"Therevis trouble in store for you," he tella us regretfully, "but you will. get over it." We feel that the future has no secret ■ hid from-him. We havo "presentiments" that people we love, who are climbing mountains, who are fond of ballooning, are in danger. The sister of a friend of mine who went out to the South African War as a volunteer hadthree presentiments of his death. He came home safe and sound, but admitted that on three distinct occasions he had been in imminent danger. It seemed to the dear lady a proof of everything she had ever read. Another friend of mine was woke up -in the middle of the night by his wife, who insisted that he should dress himself, and walk three miles across a moor because she had a dream that something terrible waa happening to a bosom friend of hers. The bosom friend and her husband were rather indignanf.it being woke up at two o'clock in the morning, but their indignation was mild compared with that of the dreamer 'on learning that nothing was the matter. From that day forward a coldness sprang up between tho two families. I would give much to believe in ghosts. The interest of life would be multiplied by its own square- power could wo communicate with the myriad dead watching us from their mountain summits. Mr. Zangwill, in a poem that should live, draws for us a pathetic picture of blind children playing in a garden, laughing, romping. All their lives they have lived m darkness, they are content. But, the wonder of it, could their eyes by some miracle be opened ! May not wo be but blind children living in a world of dark-ness-laughing, weeping, loving, dyingknowing nothing of the wonder round us? The ghosts about us, with their cod-like faces it might bo good to look at them. But these poor, pale-faced spooks, these duu-wittcd table-thumping spirits- it would be sad to think that of such was the kingdom of the Dead.

Manufacturer: "Have you quite succeeded in imitating Good und Co 's goods?" Manager: "All of them, sir." Manufacturer: "Very well. Get up a circular warning the public against vilo imitations, and ,?ut 'em. on the market."